


MISSING IN ACTION

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Alpha Scott McCall, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Steter - Freeform, Stiles is Missing, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They took what wasn’t there’s to take, they stole what was his and it took four days before he and anyone noticed that Stiles Stilinski was missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> got a steter request (order) where Stiles is taken by hunters and so on. Fuck this is such a boring idea and story, just shoot me.

 

 _This is all very redundant,_ Peter thought as he entered the bleak accommodations his nephew had chosen for himself, Scott and Derek were at each other’s throats while the rest of their miserable little pack were gathered around the loft watching the two werewolves with curiosity and boredom as well as worry. Peter looked around the room noticing that something was amiss, something, no _someone_ was missing.

 

`Where’s Stiles? ´ Peter asked Isaac who was leaning against the brick wall, frowning, arms crossed over his chest.

 

`That’s what Derek and Scott are fighting about, Scott hasn’t heard from Stiles in four days and Derek’s pissed because Scott didn’t say something sooner.´

 

`FOUR DAYS! ´ Peter roared. Derek and the new Alpha of Beacon Hills went silent, Peter could almost see his nephew curling in on himself, `You’ve waited four days Scott! Four days! What the hell is wrong with you? ´

 

Derek backed away from Scott, although Derek and Peter had never talked about it both knew that out of all the members in their pack Stiles was the most important one to Peter; Stiles was the only reason Peter had remained in Beacon Hills, and Stiles was the only reason why Peter hadn’t tried to steal away Scott’s Alpha statues. Hell, Stiles was the only reason why Peter hadn’t burned down Beacon Hills until what was only left were werewolves and ruins.  

 

Scott crossed his arms defensively, flashing his crimson eyes at Peter but the part that would have had Peter submitting to the Alpha had long ago been burned out of him along with his soul, `I talked to him on Friday, and he said he would be busy for a few days.´

 

Peter puffed his chest out, his wolf demanding to be set free.

 

`When he called you, did he tell you why he was going off the grid, did you even ask for how long? ´ Peter can feel it, the dread settling in, taking root in his stomach.

 

When Scott visibly paled, Peter nearly launched himself at the Alpha, and when Scott answered with a voice that was as good as just a whisper, `He texted me.´ Peter did launch himself at the teenager.

 

**~*~**

 

Peter stares at the mark, the overly intricate detail of the burned mark settled into the wood of the door, ****he knows that mark it was the same mark that had his grandfather sending away the youngest of their pack and the human mates; it was the mark of the Lazar family a family much older than the Argents and from what his grandfather had told Peter before sending him and his sister away was that their thirst for blood was close to madness, the Lazar’s were known for taking cubs and sending them back to the pack in pieces, human mates were treated even worse. ****And when it came to hunters the Lazar’s showed no mercy towards any hunter that might come in their way, they would eliminate them without hesitation or thought.

 

And now the Lazar’s had Stiles and if they had Stiles then it was all over they’d be lucky to find the boy in one piece.

 

`Peter?´ Derek whispered as he walked over to his uncle who stood there silent and unmoving in front of the door of the Stilinski house, the door had been damaged in more ways than one.

 

`The sheriff’s dead?´ Peter asks, he can smell the decaying corps, located somewhere upstairs, the man should have been out of town for some old-college friend’s wedding and not dead somewhere in the house where Peter’s favorite human had been raised.

 

`Yes.´ is all Derek says, voice tight and yet there was such sorrow in his voice and it was no wonder; since the sheriff had been let in on the whole werewolf thing the man had been kind to Derek, he had been kind to all of them except for Peter but that was understandable because the man had surely sensed the interests Peter had for his son.

 

`They probably made Stiles watch as his father was killed, beheaded? ´ Peter senses the nod more than sees it.

 

**~*~**

 

Peter had chased revenge for the second-time, this time expecting his own death to wait at the other end of the road of blood that he had planned to create with the blood of the Lazar’s. What Peter had not expected was to find the human still breathing, still alive although beaten and bloodied. ****Peter approached the boy who looked like he had been tossed down on the concrete floor, the small room in the basement reeked of blood and pain, and pure despair. The tang of salty tears seemed to soak into Peter’s veins, racing around his body that was still in the form of the monster Peter had slipped back into in his want for vengeance.

 

Kneeling down by the body that was covered in marks that should have not been there, he took in the damage done and he felt sick and furious because there were no more men or women to take his wrath out on. Peter took the hand that was there for him to take, there were no more fingernails for they had been torn out.

 

`Oh Stiles.´ Peter whispered with a deep and heavy sadness settling in his chest, he ran his fingers through the mess that was Stiles hair. The boy began to whimper, whine, and although he was visible weak and unwell the boy who had a spirit stronger than an army of men put together tried to move away from the person that was touching his wounded body.

 

He does not want to force anything on the damaged human, but Peter knows he must take the boy to the hospital, and so even when Stiles tried to avoid Peter he took the body that had suffered so much but still refused to give in to the demands of death.

 

The boy cried as best he could through eyes swollen shut, while Peter picked him up like a pretty little bride and Peter wished this was not the circumstance in which he was allowed to hold the young man is such a gentle fashion; he tells the boy who keeps making strange gurgled sounds that he was safe while he carries Stiles through the blood and scattered limbs and body parts, Peter had no memory of how he had entered the house or who had been the first to take the brunt of his rage.

 

**~*~**

 

Peter sits by his hospital bed for days never leaving, watching the rise and fall of the chest that was wrapped-up nicely to hide the scars and burns, he breathes in the scent of the slowly healing body thankful that Stiles had avoided infections; he holds the hand of the arm that had a heavy looking cast which was also the hand that had lost all of the fingernails, the hand with the missing fingers rests limp above the covers. ****Peter takes as much of the pain he can from the body that had suffered too greatly because of the good and loyal nature of the human boy, it was a mistake to think that the body did not feel pain while Stiles was unconscious for there was a great deal of it.

 

Peter can handle the pain he takes from Stiles for it keeps his mind from thinking about the fact that those monsters had degraded Stiles like he was something worthless, if he began to think about what had been done to Stiles he would go mad once more, those filthy humans had cut out the tongue that had always created words that may not have been poetic but were like pearls of wonder; to know he would never hear Stiles voice create words that showed the wit of a brilliant mind he had made Peter grieve as if he had lost the boy entirely.

 

`How is he? ´ Derek asks as he slips back into the room, handing the cup of coffee to his uncle who shrugs his shoulder.

 

`The swelling is going down, there are no infections and his heart is strong.´ Peter says before taking a sip of the coffee, it’s disgusting but for now it had to do; Peter needed to stay awake, needed to stay with Stiles he needed to make sure Stiles remained safe for there would be others just like the Lazar’s.

 

`You should tell him.´ Derek says as he leans against the wall across the room from the bed that holds their battered friend, `From what Chris has seen through collection of recorded sessions, ´ Peter growled at the word that could never hide the true nature of what the Lazar’s had done to Stiles, `Stiles didn’t tell the Lazar’s anything other than all the characters of Star Wars, as well some random TV-shows. I think it’s safe to say Stiles can be trusted not to burn down this pack.´

 

`Never doubted him for a minute.´ Peter says, because he never did, Stiles might have been all-human on the inside but his spirit was anything but; Stiles was a wolf at heart.

 

`So, are you going to tell him? ´ Derek asks taking his own sip of the liquid the hospital cafeteria called coffee.

 

`He needs to heal first.´ Peter says squeezing the hand slightly, `He needs to heal and feel comfortable in his own skin first. His spirit needs to mend his mind needs to heal before I do anything. I will not use his misfortune for my own gain. I will wait until his mind is clear.´

 

`And you think that will happen? ´ Derek asks sounding very doubtful, both of them can hear Scott hurrying towards them, the Alpha was anything but discreet.

 

`What little faith you have in the boy who kept your paralyzed body afloat for nearly two hours.´ Peter says, because he had full faith in Stiles, he needed that faith because without it Peter would break and he would burn the world down.  

 

**__ **

 


	2. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death hadn’t come for him. Perhaps Death hadn’t thought him worthy of its mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 Minutes is back my darlings, and this time in the shape of Missing in Action *watching people fleeing in horror* and this little chapter isn’t entirely what I had planned for the continuing of this story but I’ll deal with and hopefully so will you all *smiling apologetically at anonchick*. SO yeah, my friends are struggling to come up new stuff to test my brain with so we’re stuck at writing chapters to some old stories, this one was chosen by my one of my friends who has chosen to use my favorite flower as a name for today, so yeah Sunflower wanted something where we get a glimpse of what happened to Stiles before Peter-I’m-the-God-of-V-necks-Hale came to his rescue. My little Sunflower also asked for the moment when Stiles wakes-up and his reactions to be anything but cheerful which was in the original chapter for when Stiles awakened to the world where his dad was dead and he was very much alive. She also requested these little things; Stiles bat, Christian Bale (she loves him and now she hates me), sniper-rifle, Mama McCall, cage.

 

_ `Don’t look. Don’t look son.´ his father said, voice firm and demanding even if Stiles could tell his dad was in pain and so very afraid, `Don’t look son.´ The two men held his father bent down on his broken knees, shatter kneecaps, and his father was more focused on him than on the agony he had to be in, `Stiles don’t look, okay son? ´  _

 

__ _ There are snickering, chuckles and snorts. There are cruel people inside their house, finding amusement in their pain and fears. _

 

__ _ `Please don’t.´ Stiles cries, hysteria right there at the forefront, `Please, let my dad go, please,´ Stiles was on his knees too but his aren’t shattered just rubbed raw from being dragged on his hands and knees around the house, _ ****_ his ankles are bound not by shackles but by barbwire that cut deeper and deeper with every move he made, `Please.´ he cried against the leg of the hunter that looked disturbingly much like a slightly darker and older version of Christian Bale, with the Batman voice and all, which now ruined the Batman movies with Christian Bale in them forever, `Let my dad go. Please. Please. He’s done nothing wrong.´  _

 

__ _ C.B began to pet him like Stiles was some dog, some an animal, a family pet of sorts. But the contact was anything but comforting, but Stiles continued to cling to the man who had the power to stop it all, and he continued begging for his father’s life even when his dad told him to stop pleading but Stiles couldn’t just stop not when his father’s life hang on the balance.  _

 

__ _ `You need to see what happens,´ C.B said, running his fingers through Stiles hair which was already caked with blood and spit, but it didn’t seem to disturb the hunter who suddenly grabbed a fist-full of Stiles hair and pulled causing Stiles to cry out in pain and shock, his head was wrenched back and yanked his head every which way until Stiles topped struggling, once Stiles was pliant C.B forced him to face his father who was now begging for these men and women who had broken into their house and who were now standing there in the bedroom of the Sheriff of Beacon Hills. There was a woman, a woman Stiles had seen around town for the past month, he’d even talked about the uneasy feeling he had about her to Scott, who dismissed it as nothing, but there she was sitting on his dads bed going through Stiles’ mother’s jewels complaining loudly about how everything was cheap little crap; those cheap little pieces meant the world to Stiles, and his father. _

 

__ _ ` Please, let him go. He’s just a boy. Please, for the love of God don’t make him watch this, please. He’s just a boy.´ Stiles heard his father cry, beg, plead, ignoring completely the middle-aged woman with flaming red hair and eyes sharp and icy-blue, ignoring the swords she held with an air of power and familiarity, his father’s gaze did not flicker to the blade raised but stayed on C.B continuing pleading for Stiles’ life and perhaps innocence, even when his head was forced down he fought to keep eye-contact with the man that had been dragging Stiles around by his hair.  _

 

__ _ `Look at you father child, ´ C.B said rather softly, almost tenderly but Stiles could hear the cruelty behind the voice and the choice in words, `Look at daddy.´ Stiles could stop the loud desperate sob that escaped him. _

 

__ _ `Do you love your daddy child? ´ C.B asked looking down at Stiles who was quick to confirm his love for his father. _

 

__ _ `Yes.´ Stiles sobbed, panic rising in his heart because he knows, he just knows what’s to come, `Please….´ _

 

__ _ `Tell daddy you love him. Go on.´ C.B said pushing Stiles a little bit forward.  _

 

__ _ `I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.´ Stiles cries almost deaf to his father’s words.  _

 

__ _ `He’s just a boy. He’s just a child. Plea…´ the words were cut short with the swift blow of a single blade, the sight of his father’s head just drop from where it was supposed to be perched chocked any scream Stiles had imagined he would produce, the loud thud of his father’s head landing on the carpet turned his stomach and with the blood and the way his father’s eyes widened with surprised and blinked up at him as if asking Stiles what just happened, it was all enough to cause Stiles to vomit on C.B’s boots which earned Stiles several blows and kicks until everything went dark and agony stopped if only for a moment.  _

 

__ _ But darkness never lasted long, never was it permanent, just a flicker between agony and fears a small reprieve to hours of torture. _

 

_ In the beginning Stiles found strength in the anger he felt towards C.B and his men and the few women on his crew, he used his anger to stay defiant between beatings; between being tied to a table with a soaking towel over his mouth and nose while ice cold water was being poured down on the towel, his anger kept his tongue sharp and angry while hot pokers and knives mutilated his skin. And when the anger broke between the removal of his finger and toenails, between being dumped in ice-baths or baths that felt like it was more salt than water, between getting cut up andkept under the constant spray warm water, Stiles found his strength in the grief he felt towards his father.And when his grief wasn’t enough to silence him between having his bones broken and hos asshole being torn apart, he clung to the firm belief that Scott and the others were looking for him but soon the pictures and surveillance tapes of Scott hanging out with Isaac and Allison it shattered something within him; who knew he could lose faith in his so-called-brother? _

 

**__ ** _ But even in his tortured state, his raged filled madness, furious grief that tore at him like the hooks used to dangling him from a wall of the roof of his prison, he did not betray his friends for Stiles clung to the desire not to die a traitor to prove to Derek and Peter that he was not weak or a danger to the pack; he was not Kate Argent, he was not every human that had in one way or another betrayed them. His madness, his anger, his hatred towards these so-called humans grew into a blaze that could not be stifled with beatings or burning his skin with blow-torches or electrocuting him like he wasn’t humans; Stiles would not hold his tongue but lash out words harsh and hateful.  _

 

__ _ Stiles had been warned over and over again that one day they’d cut out his tongue, he’d never believed them even when he felt his tongue being forced right out of his mouth he had glared defiantly up at the man who’d lost an eye because of him a tiny detail Stiles felt tremendously proud about. He did not believe they were cutting out his tongue not even when C.B brought the blade to his tongue that had been pulled out so much that Stiles wondered if they would actually dislodge it slightly if that was possible, he refused to believe it when he felt the blade cut and he passed out with the belief he’d still have his tongue when he woke-up for another torture session.  _

 

**__ ** _ He did not believe it, not even when he awakened in the little cage they used when they wanted to degrade him in a new way. He could not believe it not even after he started screaming insults at those sick individuals that took turns on being creative with him. He refused to believe his tongue was gone. But soon he could not ignore the truth and it shattered him in a completely new way, he stopped screaming and made little to no sound when he was split open and whipped his skin bloody and raw.  _

 

__ _ `Time for some nutritious food boy.´ C.B laughed as he walked towards Stiles who sat bound to the hell-chair, the barbwire digging into his naked flesh, Stiles started to cry that was all he did between just screaming in frustration and anger, he was so tiered and done with life, he didn’t want the shit C.B would force down his throat; thankfully it wasn’t actual scat but some disgusting muck they forced down his throat in various ways, the worst way was the unyielding tube that left his throat raw and bleeding.  _

 

__ _ Tonight or was it morning, day or perhaps evening? Stiles wasn’t sure, there was a plate and not a bottle or a jar in the hands of the horrible man who was beyond sadistic, the ice-queen of a woman pulled one of the chairs in front of Stiles so that C.B could take a seat while one of the men who took extra pleasure in cutting him opened the tiny laptop and Stiles was made to watch as the red-headed harlot lay in waiting with a sniper-rifle, then he was made to watch as Lydia, Allison and Danny came walking out of a familiar coffee-shop. _

 

__ _ `If you refuse this nutritious meal I’ve prepared for you with love and care, then there will be a bullet for each of your friends.´ C.B said as he sat down, plate on his lap. Stiles knew they weren’t kidding; the removal of his tongue was enough to clear any doubts of the fucked-up nature of C.B and his sick fucks.  _

 

__ _ Stiles glances at the “meal”, he’d once been forced to eat cat food, and the day after the eye incident he was forced to eat vomit, and when he threw it up he was forced to eat his own vomit, he nearly refuses to eat this meal because the piece of meat on the flowery plate is familiar to him, but then with one more glance at the screen he opened his mouth prepared to eat his own tongue.  _

 

It isn’t easy to waking-up his senses are a confused mess. But a part of him fights to get out of the dream or is it just memories? Stiles will never again be sure which is which he hasn’t been sure of the difference since the night everything went to hell. 

 

Everything is too loud and yet strangely muffled. His head feels heavy his eyelids feel like they’ve been glued and weighed down at the same time, he wishes almost that they were forced open by cold and sterile pieces of thin metal, because he’s afraid of reliving the horrors burned into his memories like the marks on his skin.He’s not in pain, and it shocks him awake because he hopes that when he opens his eyes that he’ll see his mother and father smiling down at him; he hopes he’s dead, he wants to be dead and away from C.B. 

 

Everything is unfocused and he starts to cry because he knows from just that he’s still alive. He’s still alive.

 

It doesn’t really register to him that he’s not cold or in unreasonable pain, the softness underneath him isn’t catching up with his senses, he doesn’t recognize the voice or understand what is being said to him but he knows there are people there and he _knows_ that he isn’t safe.There are hands touching him and he hates it, he wants them to leave him alone, to just let him die already but C.B had told him over and over again that the only way Stiles would ever be allowed to die was if he willed it; sure C.B had told him how he’d die his death would be by fire, sure One-Eye had suggested they’d tie him to the back of two cars by his arms and legs and see how much it would take to rip him in half but Stiles was sure his death would come by fire because C.B seemed to have the same love for it as Kate Argent had. 

 

`Stiles, honey, you need to calm down.´ the voice, tells him firm and familiar, but it does nothing to ease his panic, `Please, Stiles, look at me. Look at me.´ 

 

_ Please don’t touch me, please just kill me,  _ Stiles wanted to scream, but he couldn’t because C.B had taken what little Stiles had left. 

 

`Honey, you need to calm down.´ the feminine voice ordered, demanded, and because he’d grown to fear disobedience Stiles went completely rigid where he lay. He tried to prepare his mind and body for the pain that was to come, he was in pain but it wasn’t enough because there could always be more. C.B didn’t stop until Stiles was unconscious or almost dead, and Stiles was neither at the moment and it needed to be fixed. 

 

_ Be good, maybe it’s just the ice-bath, _ Stiles though for a minute but then he realizes he didn’t feel all that dirty which meant it wasn’t a bath, so he hoped it would just be a beating or maybe a few hits with a belt. As he lays there trying to list which act of cruelty he would prefer the best, his vision began to clear and what he saw or rather whom he saw looking down at him was the last person he could ever have imagined seeing. 

 

` There you go. Look at me Stiles.´ Melissa McCall said voice calm, but she looked anything but calm, everything about her made him think she was about to burst into tears. 

 

_ Oh no, they’ve taken her,  _ Stiles thought as a new panic surged inside him because just the thought of having to see C.B or anyone else hurtingMelissa was just too much, he couldn’t handle watching them destroyer her the way they had done him. This was his limit. 

 

`Look at me sweetheart. That’s it.´ Stiles stared up at the woman who looked unharmed and it confused him, `that’s it, that’s it Stiles, breathe for me. You’re safe.´ 

 

_ What is she talking about? I’m not safe. We’re not safe.  _ Stiles felt his panic rise because this was not alright, was this another trick? 

 

`Stiles, you need to calm down,´ Melissa said, begged, and before kissing his forehead she continued to say something rather unexpected to him, `I don’t want to have to drug you again baby.´ 

 

_ Drug me? She’s drug me? When? WHY?  _

 

He can’t breathe, everything hurts. The world is moving too fast, too slow. Everything is too loud. 

 

`Stiles? Honey? ´ He can hear her say, but he can’t deal with her not now when he’s having a fucking panic attack, he can’t breathe.

 

`This is not working.´ someone growls, `Step aside.´ Melissa looks hesitant at first but obeys, and Stiles tries to reach for her to keep her between him and whoever it is that has the power to order her around, because you don’t order Melissa McCall around not even if you were the Sheriff of Beacon Hills. 

 

Someone is hushing him, but he can’t see who it is because he’s blind, and he’s not sure when he’s gone blind. And the thought of being blind and unable to speak or breathe frightens him beyond anything he’s already experienced in the hands of the hunters. 

 

_ Why can’t I just die already? _ Stiles sobs and then he starts to scream in panic because he’s being picked-up, and he knows they are going to take him somewhere where he’s going to get hurt, and he can’t take it anymore not even for Melissa. He tries to hit and claw at this person that has him now, but he knows he can’t claw much without fingernails but he still tries. 

 

He’s being maneuvered easily, he feels his body being forced into a sitting position and at first he expects to feel pain the explode all around his ass, but he realizes to his shock as he’s being pressed to lean forward against something solid but not the bad kind of solid like a table or a support beam, but a familiar solidness that almost brings him comfort, that he’s sitting on someone’s lap. He stills completely with that shock of information, there’s nothing hurting him although there is a firm hand pressing against the back of his neck keeping his head against what feels like a shoulder, another hand is rubbing his back soothingly. He can feel someone else’s inhales and exhales because his chest is resting against someone else’. Stiles can’t stop his own body from mimicking that breathing pattern of the persons he’s leaning against. 

 

_ Where’s the pain?  _ Stiles wonders still not comfortable or safe enough in this illusion of gentleness to relax. 

 

`There you go.´ the familiar but strangely gentle voice says, `breathe for me Stiles.´ 

 

_ Peter? _

 

** **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and by the way Thank you for everyone who already commented on this story and who left me 114 Kudos’ never thought that would happen!


	3. Saved by the wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melissa hadn’t imagined ever seeing Stiles alive ever again, but there he was because of Peter Hale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 minutes is back for another round of torment and unskillful and panicked writing, so my dear Crow is having some difficulty coming up with requests so she randomly chose an old story of mine for me to write a chapter or a follow-up too and she asked for a chapter with Melissa in it and her reaction to finding Stiles alive and this is what happened, you may kill her if you wish now. Now this is NOT the original plan for chapter 3 but hopefully it isn’t too bad. And I know this is stupid short but I just couldn’t get my ass going for some reason.

 

When Peter Hale stormed the emergency room with a lack of gracefulness he never displayed Melissa McCall had been taken aback especially with the amount of dried blood caked on his skin and in his hair, the wild and desperate look in Peter's wide and frantic eyes would haunt her almost as firmly as the sight of a beheaded body of John Stilinski had, she would never forget the way the werewolf had screamed and demanded for aide while clutching tightly to something or rather someone wrapped-up in messy moth-eaten blanket.Melissa stares at the seemingly lifeless form that lay hidden, cocooned in the ratty-rags of worn-down blankets, ittakes hearing the surprisingly shaky voice of a man who’d been chasing Stiles and his father’s murders relentlessly for months say, `I found him.´ a disturbing little smile tugged at Peter’s lips as he approaches her, `I found him. Alive.´ It’s then that Peter moves just enough to allow her to see what exactly he’s holding or rather whom he’s cradling like precious gift of life against his heaving body stained with blood, the blood that Melissa later learns had flowed through the embodiments of pure evil, the bruised and swollen face of the deathly still and filthy form caused Melissa’s heart to break and she chokes out a sob as she recognizes the scattering of moles which Claudia had once told a five-year old Stiles that those dark little spots that Jackson Whittemore had called filthy-bunny droppings were actually angel-kisses and thus proving Stiles was loved by not only his mother and father but all the angels from heaven too; without those dark little blemishes Stiles would’ve been otherwise unrecognizable to her, but there was no denying that Peter Hale had managed to do the unthinkable, he’d found Stiles alive, the werewolf had  brought Stiles home.

 

`Oh my God, Stiles.´ Melissa gasped as she hurried to close the distance between her and the werewolf carrying the body of the boy who’d been thought to have died long ago, it was shameful how easily and quickly she and everyone else had accepted the idea that Stiles was dead and gone, it was beyond shameful how easily they’d all just accepted that Stiles was gone even without a body to lay down in the same ground where now both John and Claudia lay, even Peter had accepted Stiles supposed death but unlike everyone else the oldest of the living Hale’s had continued chasing for some form of justice for both Stiles and his father.

 

Melissa couldn’t help the way her own professionalism crumble at the nightmarish sight that greeted her when the messy fabrics which reeked of urine was slowly and carefully peeled off of the skeletally thin body that barely moved when tired lunges struggled for much needed air, the beautiful brave boy Melissa had once known was no longer there everything seemed broken and changed to such a startling degree that the silly loyal boy had become something disturbingly unfamiliar to her. Melissa found herself thanking the heavens for a brief passing for the small mercy that was John’s untimely death, for if he’d been alive to witness the shape his only child was in it would’ve killed him or broken his heart to the point where his spirit would’ve never recovered from, now only she and those close to Stiles had to deal with the aftermath of ungodly acts done to Stiles Stilinski.

 

Melissa McCall allowed herself to cry for a brief moment, to grieve over what she had lost. She stood to the side listening and watching as other’s people she did trust were doing their best to care and help the young man who was like a son to her, who was as good as a brother to her son Scott, the degree of the trauma done to the young man who was not only malnourished and beaten but also severely dehydrated was to say the least shocking and disturbing. Melissa gave-up any pretenses of professionalism when the cruel and senseless damage done to Stiles mouth and tongue came out,her control snapped and shattered something inside her that caused her to be sick for several minutes purging her feeble excuse for a dinner from her body while listening to the doctors and nurses revealing the sickening trauma done to the boy who’d stood by Scott’s side when most people would’ve ran for the hills without looking back. When Melissa saw what had happened to Stiles mouth, the remnants of his tongue, she knew _nothing_ could ever be the same again in-regards to Stiles Stilinski, and she cried hands hovering over the damaged body wanting to touch but afraid she’d do more damage than good. As the broken body of the boy Melissa had watched grow-up into someone John could’ve been so _very_ proud of was rushed into surgery, Peter grabbed her by the arm and with an intense look in his frightfully blue eyes that borrowed into her soul and with an unfamiliarly desperate voice asked her to go with Stiles, to stay with him and not to leave him;  and she did as she was asked refusing to leave Stiles side going as far as threatening an ungodly wrath upon anyone who dared to try and separate her from her boy. And so for hours Melissa McCall remained at Stiles’ side holding the hand that was ever so slightly less broken with both of her own trembling ones, she sat there close and bent down so she could whisper hopefully comforting words into the ear of the kid who’d always had Scott’s back; the sad thing was that later once Stiles awakened from his unconscious state it became clear that the ear into which Melissa had been whispering words of love and affection, comfort and reassurance, had been damaged beyond repair and so severely that even if she had been screaming into that very ear Stiles would’ve heard nothing.

 

While Melissa remained at the side of the boy that had been declared dead far too soon she contemplated what the future would or could hold for Stiles Stilinski. Unlike her son Melissa McCall wasn’t delusional or naïve enough to think not even for a passing second that this Stiles who had been found half-dead would still be the same wonderful vibrant boy she’d spoken too on the day of his disappearance, she would never forget the conversation they’d had or the words spoken then and a part of her wished she’d said something back then that could’ve given Stiles some comfort during his captivity, it wasn’t just Stiles body that had been damage and Melissa knew this because she was wise and seen enough years and people to know that there was not a soul that no one could go through all the horrors Stiles had suffered through without their mind becoming altered; you just had to look at Peter Hale to see the damage unimaginable agony and fear could do to even the strongest of minds, she could only hope that Stiles wouldn’t wake as twisted and dark as the oldest Hale had.

 

Melissa McCall stayed at the side of the late Sheriff of Beacon Hills until the first round of surgeries was finished and it pained the nurse to know that Stiles would suffer through a few more surgeries to mend some of the evidence of human cruelty, and when the first round of surgeries were finished she felt a seemingly eternal exhaustion settle itself within her person like never before, and it was then as the boy was carted away to a private room where he could recover in peace and away from prying eyes that her strength of mind broke; Melissa allowed her tears to flow freely  and without the support of one of her fellow nurses she would’ve crumbled to the floor, Melissa granted herself a moment to grieve what she’d lost before making her way over to where a slightly cleaner version of Peter Hale was pacing about while wringing his hands and mumbling repeatedly, `He’s going to be fin. He has to be fin. I found him in time. I did, I did.´

 

It’s an odd thing to see, Peter Hale so clearly worried and hopeful at the same time. Melissa saw similarities in Peter’s behavior to that of John’s when Claudia had been hospitalized for the first-time. She watches the werewolf for a minute feeling sorry for him, it was clear Peter cared for Stiles in a completely different way from the way she or Scott did.

 

`Peter.´ Melissa calls out to the man she’d seen as a monster for several years, and immediately he turns his gaze towards her and Melissa knew he was preparing himself for the worst possible news.

 

`He’s made it through surgery,´ she tells him and he wobbles a little as if a heavy weight had been dropped off of him and suddenly his inner balance was lost, there’s a paleness and a stunned look on his face.

 

`I- I need to see him.´ the werewolf says voice low, desperate, eyes searching for any possible sight of the young man he’d saved and Peter had saved him, Dr. Boniface had let it slip that in a matter of hours Stiles chance of recovery would’ve been grim.

 

`You will,´ she assures him, and she will grant him access to Stiles because even if this man had harmed her son he’d saved her other son’s life when she and Scott had forsaken Stiles, Melissa knew she owed Peter a great deal now. Peter makes a move as if ready to seek Stiles out but she stops him, and explains to him he needs to wait awhile until Stiles had been settled into his room, Peter seems to accept it with a grain of salt face twisted in a frown.

 

`Have you called the others?´ Melissa ask, hand rubbing up and down Peter’s back while they walk towards a set of chairs, he shakes his head mumbling something about not realizing he hadn’t done that.

 

`I’ll do that, shall I? ´ Peter just nods to her, his hand however grasping hers.

 

`I – I thought he was dead, when I found him.´ Peter confesses, `He’s never still you know, ´ and Melissa does know, she’d had the boy at her house for sleepovers enough times to know Stiles Stilinski wasn’t one for staying still even while asleep, `Or silent but he was so – so unmoving and quiet, but then he wasn’t and I just ran.´

 

`You saved him Peter. You brought him home.´ Melissa says clasping her own hand over his and giving it a light squeeze, never had she imagined that she would find herself grateful for Peter Hale being alive, `You brought him home. He’s alive and safe, all because of you Peter.´

 


	4. Listen to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as surprising to Peter as it must have been for Melissa to find that Stiles settled when he spoke to him.

 

There’s been a festering ache in Peter’s charred heart since the one person Peter’s wolf saw as its equal was taken, the pain had been gnawing at him constantly even now when Stiles is right there for him to touch and see.Peter does however find little comfort in knowing that even in Hell Stiles’ will to live, to survive, had kept the seemingly fragile human going when most would’ve shattered, it’s a strange sort of comfort knowing that this wonderful young man had a heart of unimaginable strength and courage because that was what a werewolf would want in a companion. 

 

Once upon a time before this horrible trial of will and hope was set Peter Hale had pondered the length he might be willing to go to spare the bright human boy who’d caught Peter’s attention long before he ever really met the teenager who hadn’t ran for the hills the moment he learned about werewolves, Peter had played with the ideas of how far he’d go to spare Stiles Stilinski from unnecessary suffering; Peter had played with the thought of having the heart and selfishness to show the youth mercy the sort none had shown Peter when he was burned to the bone the _first-time,_ but when it came to act on the idea of mercy Peter found himself unable to spare the startlingly wonderful human from unreasonable suffering for _he_ Peter Hale was a selfish bastard.

 

Peter feels useless and guilty where he sits and waits his inability to uphold his own promise and it irritated him to no end, and now that he’d finished the book he’d been reading out loud to the unconscious young male the werewolf was left alone with his own dark thoughts, Peter had spent countless of hours reading to the Stiles who’d continued to heal be it slowly under the watchful eye of the werewolf and it was partly due to Peter’s constant vigilance that certain medical procedures had been done to battle any infections attempting to damage the healing process; there were of course injuries that would never heal, and there would always be scars left to remind them of how close they had come to losing Stiles Stilinski but for Peter those scars were also a reminder of how strong and brave Stiles was. 

 

Peter Hale felt honored and proud of his heart’s desire, his mate, who’s beauty had been forcefully changed by unworthy human monsters and although Peter was greatly saddened by the death of the beauty of flawless skin and slender long wingers, he was none the less in awe of the amazing young who’s inner beauty and strength became clearly when the physical aspect of Stiles beauty was damaged. To Peter Stiles had almost become a godly figure, a divine being, a deity that Peter would forever worship till death did them part. 

 

Peter would teach Stiles to perhaps not love this new body of his, but would teach the young man to understand Peter’s love and lust for it Peter would show Stiles the strength he sees in the young man. 

 

Peter intended to undo if not all of the damage done to his young mate, he would help to rebuild Stiles’ strength and keep him safe and strong; **** Peter would give Stiles all of him without weakening him in the process, he wouldn’t make his mate believe he was weak or incapable like other’s seemed resigned to do.

 

By the heavens how it irritated Peter and his wolf to hear how everyone including Melissa McCall was making plans in regards to Stiles future inside as well as outside of the hospital without considering what this wonderful young man might want, butfor now Peter held his tongue which would lash out if Stiles need it to do so.

 

Peter’s thoughts break with the sudden change in Stiles heartbeat as well as his breathing,it startles both him and Melissa who’d returned to give Stiles another sponge bath even though seeing the scars visibly upset her each time to the point of crying but she’s a stubborn woman determined to minimalize the humiliation Stiles might feel by having strangers seeing the damaged body,since Stiles had been found and hospitalized he’d grown to admire Melissa even more than he’d already done. 

 

Peter is up and out of his chair he breathes out the words `He’s waking-up.´ Melissa quickly pulls the covers back up over Stiles prone body,perhaps hoping to protect Stiles from further trauma or humiliation.

 

He wants to be the first person Stiles sees but what Peter wants and what Stiles needs are two completely different things, and so he stays back standing in the far of corner anxiously watching Melissa coaxes Stiles gently out of his unconscious state, her voice is soft and encouraging.Peter anxiousness grows and he stops breathing when he hears Stiles’ heart jump up a beat and as the beautiful whiskey colored eyes finally open Peter’s heart breaks a little, there’s so very little left of the light in those once so spirited eyes that a coldness washes over him, all Peter now sees is fear and pain it alone was enough to cause the wolf in him to rise to the surface even without the poignant stench of fear that leaked out of the wounded body.

 

Watching, experiencing the sense of terror Stiles slipped into was something Peter would’ve preferred to never have been made to witness, and there was a part of him that wished he could’ve been deaf to the garbled screams that left his mates mouth for it was noise that made it clear to him that he’d never hear Stiles speak again; he’d never hear the boy say his name in anger, in joy or ecstasy, he would never hear the young man call him various somewhat insulting and yet bemusing nicknames. 

 

With an air of authority Melissa manages to subdue Stiles but it’s a strange stillness one which causes Peter’s skin crawl,and as Stiles stays there unmoving an air of resolve and surrender, and then suddenly Stiles was back to trashing and screaming like a madman and Peter is done with standing idly by while Stiles works himself into a full-blown panic attack.

 

Peter moves swiftly and with purpose the previous time he’d done so was on the night he found the young man would been believed to be dead.He maneuvers the trashing boy up and onto his lap while he himself sat his ass down, he traps Stiles arms and hands which are trying to cause whatever demons Stiles was seeing, restraining the boy seemed to do more harm than good but Peter has no other choice, once Stiles is secure Peter begins to speak to the young man who’s heart is attempting escape from his body, as if by some strange and powerful magic Stiles stops his feeble attempt for freedom **,** and from the way Stiles stops causes both Peter and Melissa to share a look of surprise and wonder for it does seem like it was because of him Peter Hale that Stiles had calmed down.

 

Stiles pauses, stops moving except for his heaving chest, it seems to Peter as if this damaged boy isn’t all that certain that Peter’s really there,astime passes Stiles wide frantic eyes move restlessly over Peter’s face while the werewolf continues to advice the boy to breathe.

 

`Just breathe Stiles,´ Peter says voice free from being demanding for he felt such a thing would trigger something within the boy, Peter speaks as though to simply advice Stiles of what to do, `Come now Stiles, breathe me with me, I know you can do it.´ 

 

Stiles is still and silent for a moment before finally speaking or rather garbling something unintelligent in the form of a question, and Peter presumes that what Stiles had attempted to say was his name, he hopes he’s assumption is correct because if he’s wrong he’ll sound like a self-absorbed asshole.

 

`It’s me.´ Peter says with a firmness that speaks of truth if nothing else, `You’re safe. I promise you, _you are_ safe. ´

 

It takes a little bit more coaxing to convince Stiles that he’s safe and when he does believe it he begins to cry in earnest while his broken and weak hands paw at Peter in a desperate attempt to get a hold of him and so Peter holds the boy tighter.

 

`I’ve got you Stiles.´ Peter promises the boy, voice soft and gentle. Peter’s well aware that Melissa is watching him with a look even he can’t decipher. 

 


End file.
